Your a Daisy if Ya Do
by Sand5Marlowe
Summary: While Jake attempts to court Teresa, Doc Holliday comes to town, frightening the townspeople and challenging Jake to the risk of a lifetime. (and a possible cameo of Wyatt Earp)
1. Chapter 1

***Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters to Dr. Quinn or Tombstone. I'm just having a little fun.***

The cold winter winds blew rough shot through the saloon's swinging doors. They swung wildly inward smacking into a sallow drunkard, knocking him headlong on the sawdust-covered floor. A veracious uproar of laughter erupted among the company of prostitutes, gamblers, and drifting flotsam. As the hullabaloo died down the familiar sounds of clinking beer steins and tossed about poker chips took over. Thick cigar smoke rolled like a fog bank to and fro about the chilly room. Here and their sudden guffaws of laughter shot out amongst the rowdy revelers.

Hank watched the scene with his usual mixture of mischief and caution. From his perch behind the bar, he surveyed the room taking note that there was a resonating tension building from the high rollers booth towards the back. A stranger had rolled into town unnoticed by the busy body population of Colorado Springs. Hank never saw the man slip through the door, nor did he notice him take up residence at the booth. Yet there he sat with the top half of his face cast in shadow.

He had somewhat of an angular jaw for a man. Even from this distance, Hank could tell that he was not as he outwardly appeared. His hands were long and white as bone with a clammy feel about them. This was evident in the way he held his poker cards, constantly rubbing them against each other in a veiled attempt to gain friction. With his right hand, he held a heavy silver dollar between his thumb and index finger. As he waited calculating his opponents, hands the coin seemingly of its own accord flipped from index, to middle to ring, and finally to pinky only to retrace it's climb. The stranger's movements were smooth as silk, yet languid, and completely deliberate.

Hank sent his best girls to the table in hopes of gaining some kind of insight into the identity of the stranger. Yet each one was turned away with a simple wave of his hand. Hanks blue eyes roasted like blue infernos, in frustration. Something didn't smell right, and he couldn't bring himself to approach the darkness of the both.

"Gimme a whiskey," Jake's voice boomed into Hank's thoughts. He slapped two bits down on the scratched and worn bar top.

"Take the bottle," Hanks wisp of a voice replied, sliding the quarter filled whiskey bottle at Jake.

In one fluid motion, Jake swiped the bottle from the bar top and turned to face in the same direction as Hank. He narrowed his eyes at the stranger, as he swigged intently straight from the bottle. Leaning back so that he was perched on his elbows, Jake cocked his head down and raised his eyebrows.

"Well, now! Who's this?" he jauntily bobbed his head at Hank.

"Stranger," Hank said awestruck. "Turned down all my best girls."

Jake rolled his eyes, as he turned back in order to lean forward on the bar.

"Isn't every girl. . . Your best girl," he laughed partially drunk.

Hank raised his brow as he crossed his arms on his chest. He watched Jake lay his head lazily into his weak clumsy hand. His lips were pushed together in his usual grimace, and his eyes dragged heavy with disappointment.

"Stuck out?" Hank inferred. He'd seen Jake earlier that day pacing about the front of the schoolhouse in indecision.

"Does it count if you never make up to swing?" Jake laughed desperately.

"Qui non vult fieri desidiosus, amet," his southern drawl slithered into their ears ominously from behind. "That's Latin. . . Let him who would not be idle, fall in love."

The stranger stood like a serpent which had slid out from under its rock. The black brim of his hat continued to mask his face. However, now that he was closer Hank could see the pale feverish look of his skin. His blood drained lips smirk crookedly with an air of wickedness. Jake and Hank stood dumb in the presence of this predator of a man. After such a long pause, the stranger tipped his hat to them, never revealing his identity.

"I deduce the gentry of this fair town," he smirked smartly as he sauntered out the swinging doors. "To be unequal game. But a fresh daisy of a schoolmarm sounds the ticket."

She took her time walking through the dew damp meadow, passed the church. The freezing morning was overcast and wet from last night's rain. The grass seemed to sparkle as though it were scattered with emerald jewels. This was her preferred type of weather. Teresa tugged at the slender fitted sleeves of her maroon gingham dress. Hugging her books closer to her chest, she regretted her decision to step out with only her black knit shawl.

The wind blew about her helping soft tendrils of hair to fall in wavy wisps about her face. She sighed in frustration with the knowledge that once inside the warmth of the schoolhouse; those wisps would curl up into untamable ringlets. Laughing at herself silently, she realized she had taken extra care in getting ready this morning. She had subtly rouged her lips and had begun dabbing lemon juice about her face in a blatant attempt to lighten her skin. Teresa went to great pains to pin up her hair just right, and now it was wind blown and unkempt.

Though she would not admit it to herself, Mayor Slicker's constant presence at the schoolhouse left her flustered. The day before she watched him through the picture window of the school, walking up and down the dirt path with an unknown purpose. Whenever he reached the top, he'd freeze deep in contemplation, and then turn away in disdain. This man was a puzzlement to her with the way he stared dreamily into her face whenever they conversed.

However, one day he wasn't there. She found herself constantly casting glances out the window expecting to see his tall dashing frame strutting up the path. A pang had struck her heart then. Abashed she stood with the knowledge that she felt an attraction for the man. An icicle like fear pierced her heart at the thought that he had given up. That's when all this cosmetic grooming began.

She shuddered as an icy gale whip through her body. Reaching the path which was mostly mud now, she wondered if those heavy boot prints were his. Subconsciously her hand flew up and began tidying her hair as she climbed the slight slope to the door. Pulling the key to the schoolhouse from her skirt pocket, she stopped short. The door stood partially open and heat was emanating from within. Cautiously she crossed the threshold hoping to find an early bird sitting happily in the warmth of the room.

There he sat with his black leather boots propped up on one of the children's desks. His silver spurs dug deep into the varnished wooden desktop. The small heating furnace which sat behind him was lit and circulating the air. She felt the piercing gaze of his mossy green eyes as she tossed her books angrily onto her desk. Rising with the stealth of a deathly apparition before her, he mockingly smirked, as he bowed graciously to her.

"Mr. Holliday," she nodded to him feeling a combination of fear and regret.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're hard to find, my dusky little rose," the sides of his mouth curled up into a sinister smile.

In truth, she knew the second Guillermo died that he'd be on his way. However, the days and weeks had passed without incident and she'd assumed he'd moved on from his infatuation.

"How did you find me?" she seethed retreating to the far corner between the chalkboard and picture window.

Lowering his feet to the floor, his spurs spun and clinked causing Teresa to flinch at the sound. How many times had she heard that horrible noise in his presence? As he advanced like a stalking panther, she continued to cautiously stare into his murky emerald orbs. They seemed to narrow with glee as the gap between them shrunk. Teresa pressed her body further into the corner as if she could pass right through to the other side. Before she knew it, the points of his boots were parallel to her toes, and she could smell the mixed scents of tobacco and musky cologne. He leaned over trapping her with his arms, as he rested his hands on the walls.

No longer able to maintain eye contact she stared fixedly at his mouth. His lips had once been full and soft, however not they were chalky and salacious. She prayed desperately that none of the children entered at this moment. The man was unpredictable, sly, and dangerous as a viper. Holding her fisted hands against her heart, she began to panic, as she dryly swallowed.

"I believe I promised as long as _**he **_was alive, I would desist in pursuing you, dawlin," he forcibly took one of her fists and forced each finger to uncurl.

Doc took to pressing her captive hand to his sallow lips, when the door flung wide.

"Mrs. Morales, I've just got to-" Jake stood stunned.

The stranger seemed to be coiled around her like a snake. Teresa's face was stricken with utter terror, and when her eyes fell on him, they seemed to be pleading. Every muscle in Jake's body went rigid as rock as the stranger swiveled around to face him. Jake cocked his arm reading to pull his pistol from its holder only to find that his wasn't wearing it. Narrowing his eyes at this devil man, he knew that he would rush him at point blank.

However, the man only smiled. He slithered towards Jake as though they were old friends, and biting innocently on his thumbnail, he peered deeply into Jake's angry eyes.

"It is the idle lover," Doc mocked him, never loosing his boyish smile. "She is fresh, isn't she? I can see that soil of a man did not succeed in crushing her bloom. But I can see you're after it too."

Jake stretched himself to his full height. His brain rushed to except what the stranger had just said. "Say what you mean by-"

"I've been rude," his southern drawl spilled lazily from his lips. "Doc Holliday."

Although panic spread throughout Jake's body at the sound of Doc's name, he couldn't allow him to hurt Teresa. Taking a step around him towards Teresa, he was surprised to find the man turn and tip his hat to them. Doc smiled and bowed to Teresa with all the charm of a southern gentleman.

"I'll take my leave, of you turtledoves," he said disappearing out the door.

Unconsciously Teresa found herself pressed under the crook of Jake's arm. He had been protectively shielding her out of instinct. They resigned themselves momentarily to the comfort one another's bodies. Only the sound of the oncoming children forced them to separate. Awkwardly they gazed into each other's facings with longing. Jake wanted desperately to question her about notorious gunslinger which had slithered out moments ago. However, when he saw her face soften and she smiled painfully up at him, he felt his knees go weak. All he could think about was how beautiful she looked in her maroon dress. And he found his hand reaching out of its own accord to tuck her hair behind her ear for her.

At this gesture, the tension melted from her body. She was instantly warmed and her hand rested on her cheek, as she smiled. Stepping closer into the shadow of his body, she summoned every ounce of courage possible.

"Mayor Slicker."

"Mrs. Morales?" his voice dripped with desire.

"I-," she began only to be cut off by Brian running in at full speed.

"It's him! It's really him!" Bryon shouted excitedly.

Jake couldn't fathom how the children could take a shine to that lunger.

"We've seen him," Jake rolled his eyes.

"Can you believe Wyatt Earp is at the train depot?"


	3. Chapter 3

"The law marshal?" Jake's voice rose with surprise. He looked searchingly at Teresa who had begun inching her way to her desk.

Brian's bright eyes continued to look excitedly up at Jake, completely unaware he was intruding on a moment.

"Do ya think it has anything to do with that man staying up at the boarding house?" Brian mused utterly ecstatic.

"At the boarding house?" Teresa froze at the edge of her desk.

Children began filing in running around Jake to take their seats. They were humming joyously about the great Wyatt Earp, whom they had glimpsed, crossing town on their way to school. Brian's brows furrowed as he looked from Jake to Ms. Teresa. She appeared to be frightened, as she wouldn't look Jake in the face. Jake on the other hand was staring intensely at her with a curious air. He seemed oblivious to the children laughing and squirming around him.

"Children," Teresa said nervously with her palm pressed against her stomach. "Quiet down. . . . Our. . . Mayor is here."

As the hubbub slowly began to die down Brian took his seat observing, with all the curiosity of a detective, as Jake approached Teresa. He leaned in behind her so close that their bodies almost touched, and whispered something inaudible into her ear. Brian watched as she squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. She whispered something back to him causing him to spring quickly away from her. Turning he looked at the class as though he was only now realizing their presence. He straightened himself up and tipped his hat to Teresa.

"Mrs. Morales," his face was completely serious. "I'll be right outside."

She nodded again with a little sense of relief. Looking out the picture window, she watched as he surveyed the perimeter of the schoolhouse before taking a seat on the front steps. He would remain there until the school day was through, then he would escort her to Graces were she would tell him everything.

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The evening sun hung low in the sky as the children rushed down and around the meadow. The lush green leaves of the trees were beginning to give way to the autumn tints of orange, gold, and brown. Dancing round about the air the wind whipped up the scent of wet soil hinting at the on coming rain. Grey clouds had begun to cluster high overhead blanching out huge spaces of the fading blue sky.

Teresa hugged her shawl tightly around her shoulders, feeling the cold penetrating her bones. She smiled gratefully at Jake as he placed the steaming metal mug of coffee on the red and white checkered tablecloth before her. Holding the mug below her chin, she huddled around it as though it were a fire. Jake scanned the crowd, taking note that Grace's Café appeared to be virtually empty. Everyone must be crowding around that marshal, Jake thought to himself. He seated himself next to Teresa in an attempt to block the freezing wind from hitting her.

"I'm afraid," she said beginning her story awkwardly, "that I am acquainted with Mr. Holliday. . . From my youth."

Jake leaned forward encouraging her to continue. He could tell she felt strange sharing her past with him, when before the most they'd said to one another were two sentence greetings.

"I was just a schoolgirl of 17, when I was being courted by Guillermo. He was a man of many dreams. This made my family very unhappy as in our culture this means a man is flighty and will not provide properly for his family. So feeling a need to prove himself, he began working at the local cantina in order to make extra money.

I'm ashamed to say in my impetuous youth I often snuck out to meet him there in the alley where no one could see us. It was all very innocent," she shifted in her seat feeling embarrassed at her admission. He only smiled knowingly at her, and waved his hand that she might continue.

"That is when he discovered us. At first, it seemed he would say nothing. He mentioned something about 'the follies of youth,' and left. He seemed a very odd man. And as time went on, I thought nothing of him. Then I began to see him standing outside my school. He started to stroll beside me as I walked home, all the time flattering and asking after me. As propriety demanded, I denied him and asked that he leave me in peace. Which he did with the utmost respect.

Guillermo finally had earned enough money to properly ask for my hand, and word spread of it through the town. That's when he appeared once again flagrantly harassing Guillermo and pressing my family with his ill-gotten money. But I knew that man did not want a wife. Against my families wishes I married Guillermo, and on our wedding day, he burst in brandishing his pistol, demanding my virtue. His intoxication had spurred his jealousy. "

Jake flinched slightly recalling his own misgivings with the bottle. She paused knowing all to well what he was thinking, and she patted his arm reassuringly.

"I pleaded with him to leave me in peace. I told him if he truly cared for me, he would respect the sanctity of my matrimony to Guillermo. He seemed to be thinking about the prospect for sometime before he said he would be with me when Guillermo was dead. I can still hear those horrible spurs as he walked out of the chapel that day laughing like a devil." She turned to face Jake with nothing but shame in her face.

Just as Jake was about to take her now warm hand in his, they heard the sound of someone clapping mockingly behind them.

"I love that fairytale," Doc said tugging at the tip of his thin mustache. Grinning maniacally, he eyeballed Jake with a boyishly cocky air. "It is a proper bawber."


	4. Chapter 4

Jake was on the man in seconds, his whole body filled with wrought iron anger. They stood pillar to pillar each awaiting the next move. With a flourish, Doc opened the front of his coat, revealing his pearl handled pistols, which were cradled into the holsters at his ribs. Jake completely unimpressed scoffed forwarding his stance on Doc.

"Flash them suckers all you want," Jake said through gritted teeth. "I ain't back'in down."

Doc winked up into Jake's reddening face. Like a lightening strike, he struck bringing the sharp blade of his hidden dagger up under Jake's square jaw. Never flinching, he thrust his chin into the air, maintaining his unwavering gaze on Doc.

"What do you think dawlin?" Doc laughed with wicked glee. "Who shaves the bawber's whiskers?"

Teresa, who had been flanking Jake the entire time, was pleading with Doc to let him loose. She could hear her heart beating in her throat as she endeavored to step in between them.

"Please, let him go," Teresa entreated. Suddenly, she paused somewhat taken aback.

"Please stop this," she said passed them into the night.

A strong steady hand landed heavily on Doc's shoulder from behind. The hands owner stared level at Doc through sapphire eyes. His chocolate brown hair was combed behind his ears and his tall countenance rung with complete composer.

"Wyatt," Doc said still frozen in his death grip. "I will not be pawed."

"Where the hell have you been?" Wyatt demanded removing his hand. "I've been looking all over this town for you."

"Wyatt as you can see I'm in the middle of something," Doc applied pressure to the blade causing a bead of blood to grow out of Jake's skin.

"He's unarmed Doc," he reasoned waiting for a response.

With a simple shrug, Doc released Jake, smiling as he stepped jauntily away. Jake wiped the blood away with his fingers as Teresa rushed to apply her handkerchief to his wound. He wrapped his hand around hers as she fussed about him. Finally, they turned to view the odd couple that stood before them.

Wyatt smiled warmly at Teresa as it became evident to Jake that the law marshal was part of her past as well. He wondered how this man had escaped her narrative. They watched as Wyatt opened a silver filigree engraved cigarette case and offered a roll to Doc. Doc pressed the roll to his chalky lips as he leaned into Wyatt's cupped hands, for a light. The air around them filled with the sickly sweet smell of tobacco and clove. The pair were cool as ice as they conversed as though Jake and Teresa hadn't been there.

"What are you doin here Doc? This town ain't exactly you."

"I am fulfilling a dream," he said staring suggestively at Teresa.

Wyatt seeming to remember himself, walked up and kissed Teresa on the cheek.

"How've you been, Ms. Teresa?" he smiled with familiarity.

"Very well, Mr. Earp," she said with a smile. Then with an air of distaste towards Holliday, "until now."

"This must be the Mayor I've been hearing about," Wyatt said lighting his own cigarette. He extended his hand to Jake with cheer in his eyes.

"Jake Slicker," he said taking his hand.

"It's quite a town ya got here. It's none to dry though," he insinuated towards Doc.

Doc coughed into the air behind him, losing his roll in the process. His lower lip splattered with tiny droplets of blood. "Piss on you Wyatt."

The sky was beginning to darken as the cold autumn winds drafted forcefully into their bodies. Jake felt Teresa take to shivering in her thin knit shawl.

"It's gettin late, you understand," he said nodding to Wyatt. "I should escort Mrs. Morales back to the boarding house."

Wyatt turned knowingly to Doc. "Not a worry. Doc's coming back to the saloon with me. . . Ms. Teresa goodnight."

He nodded to her as Jake ushered Teresa away. Wyatt turned to his friend who had begun a round of violent coughing, which was causing him to double over. Wyatt pulled Doc's arm around his shoulders as he half carried and half walked him down the street to the saloon.

"Damn it Doc! This weather ain't good for you and ya know it," he scolded.

"Oh Wyatt, you know nothing of the sacrifices of love," Doc said succumbing to his recent fit. Though it was cold, sweat beads were forming on his forehead. They dribbled down onto his cream silk collar, staining it yellow. The pair stumbled forward down the main street as Doc's head lulled weakly on his neck. Blood trickled forth from the couch of his lips. Wyatt cursed tightening his grip wondering if Doc had finally done himself in with this trip.

Reaching the porch of the saloon Wyatt leaned his friend against the hitching post for a breath. He sighed beginning to loose his patience for Doc's obsessively twisted scruples. Determined to get Doc on the next train, he was about to resign himself to allowing Doc to pass out. He waited sucking in the calming tobacco from his roll. Unbeknownst to him a slender yet strong woman had approached laying her palm flat a top Doc's moist forehead.

"This man is sick. Why are you just standing around like this? He needs medical attention," she stared at him unflinching.

"It'll pass, lady," Wyatt said flatly. He threw his stub down into the dirt.

"Bring him into the clinic," she demanded already attempting to hoist his limp body up herself.

Between them they dragged him across the way into the Michaela's clinic. Wyatt watched her a little awestruck as he came to the realization that she was the resident doctor. She motioned him through another door which led to stairs to an upper floor.

"This man has tuberculosis," she stated after they had placed him into a bed.

"Right," he said matter of fact, feeling she was stating the obvious.

"Right," she mocked him. "And it's contagious."


	5. Chapter 5

The lit lantern cast a warm yellowish glow over the porch of the boarding house. Just standing within close proximity to the flame halted Teresa's shivering. She took comfort in the fact that at least for this night Doc would leave her in peace. Mr. Earp would not let Doc out of his sight. Sighing gratefully she smiled up into Jake's kind doting face, as he continued to linger at the bottom of the stairs.

"It is very kind of you to walk me home," Teresa said feeling her heart flutter.

Though he was standing two steps below her she still had to tilt her head up to look into his intense slate eyes. The corner of his mouth curled up pleasantly into a crooked smile. As he pushed his hat back so that it rested an inch above his auburn hairline, he took a step up on the porch. Towering over her, she could smell the intoxicating combination of leather and aftershave, which seemed to magnetize her to him. Teresa found herself aching to press herself against the solid wall of his chest. However this was not to be had, and she maintained her composure.

"If you like," his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. "I could come up here early and walk you to the school house."

He felt this polarizing force compelling him to hold her against his body. Yet, he held firm. As he looked down into the most sparkling deep amber colored eyes he'd ever seen, Jake knew he was hopelessly in love with her. A light gale blew the scent of her hair up his nose causing a tingling sensation in his heart. Roses. She smelled for all the world like roses. Jake felt his muscles tense at the sight of her biting softly on her plush pinkish lip. He knew he would have to leave soon else, his desires would get the better of him.

"If that is what you wish. . . Mayor Slicker," she took a step closer to him, angling her face up as though she were waiting for a kiss.

He wanted her to call him Jake, call him Jacob, call him anything but Mayor Slicker. There was an intense impatience for familiarity, which had Jake breaking under the strain of it. Her small mouth was so inviting, and Jake longed to feel the sensation of her lips against his own. However, as sure as he had lived in this town most his life, he knew they were being watched. Yet, his hooked finger flew up of its own accord and tucked under the tip of her chin. He brought his lips down so close to hers they were only a hairs width apart. Close enough that they could feel the warmth of each other's breath against their skin. Close enough to take that plunge, and drown endlessly in passionate love.

"Mrs. Morales," Jake's voice was deep and guttural. As he formed the syllables of her name the very tip of his upper lip brushed, up against hers completing a circuit passed the point of no return. Teresa pushed into him throwing caution to the wind. With his free hand, he nudged the small of her back helping her up into the kiss.

It was wantonly electrifying. Every hair on Jake's body seemed to spring up with magnetizing force. His heart felt as though it was engorging to the point of bursting. All thoughts were lost in an abyss of unmitigated bliss. Every sensation began storing itself within his being. Her lips felt like rose petals, and her beautiful olive skin was feather soft. The way her palm pressed into his chest, he could feel his heart beat echoing within her hand.

Then there was a slight pressure as she reluctantly pushed away. Her lips came away as she backed out of the crescent of his arm. Without turning around her hand felt for the doorknob of the boarding house door. Her face was flush with excitement and awe, as she backed onto the threshold of the now open door.

"I will see you in the morning. . . Mayor Sli-," she cut herself off with a smile. "Jake."

He remained on the porch steps until the door clicked shut and her footfall faded into the vicinity of the building. Dreamily, he turned walking dazed out into the street. Tomorrow he would be waiting for her on those steps. Tomorrow, he would have his guns.

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Michaela watched the two men interacting with each other. Although she knew of their deadly reputations, there seemed to be nothing in their current countenance to suggest otherwise. Being deathly sick didn't appear to be dampening Mr. Holliday's cocky banter at all. In fact, he was rather enjoying the surgical mask she had insisted Mr. Earp wear to prevent contamination. The only thing healthy about this man was the clarity of his dark green eyes. They laughed cheerily up into the face of his long time friend.

"Doc. She's taken again. You're coming back with me on the next train out," Wyatt said leaning back in his chair by the bed.

"Wyatt, until that dusky rose has gold wrapped about her peach of a finger I shall not wandah," he suppressed a cough into his fisted hand.

Michaela raised her eyebrows at this. Seeing her questioning glance Wyatt rose waving his hand in an indication of Doc.

"How long has this Mayor Slicker been courting Ms. Teresa? Tell him would ya."

"Well," her eyes startled at the realization. "Jake?"

"Doesn't matter," he returned his sizzling yet pleading expression back to Doc. "I'm sorry Doc. She doesn't want ya okay."

"One can not gain without venture," Doc rolled his eyes looking away towards the open lattice doors leading out to the balcony.

"At least take your boots off," Wyatt said seeing how he seemed to be measuring the distance.

Doc kicked gently away at Wyatt's hands. "I am not a child."

"You're acting like one," Michaela said dryly closing the lattice doors and locking them.

She sighed observing the already late night sky. Much preferring to be nestled in the warmth of her own home with her children and husband Michaela felt irritated by the cavalier couple.

"Understand this dawlin," Doc began to rise on his elbows, choking ever so slightly. "If I am to die, it will be on my own booted feet, before my blushing bride."

Michaela and Wyatt watch aghast, as he weakly drug himself out of bed. Sweat was raining down from his mahogany hair, which was matting to his temples. The silk of his cravat was soaked through, creating a heavy weight on his chest. As he passed Wyatt on his staggering way towards the door his knee gave bringing him down. However, he managed to pull himself up by leaning on the door.

"Damn it Doc don't make me hit you!" Wyatt yelled angrily as he rushed the door.

Doc slide back into Wyatt's arms as an opposing force drove the door in. The man behind it froze awkwardly as he came face to face with the blue-eyed marshal he'd hoped never to see again. Wyatt's jaw set rigidly as he flipped a now unconscious Doc back onto the bed.

"Byron Sully," Wyatt strode up to the shocked man extending his hand. "How the hell have you been?"


End file.
